


The Portrait, the Tube and the Stranger

by LadyOfDoom



Category: V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fix-It, Personality Disorder, Plot With Porn, Reunion, Separation, Sexual Content, Unmasked, accidental smut, body issues, movie is Evey's retelling of the events, not really anything to fix tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:13:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfDoom/pseuds/LadyOfDoom
Summary: Three years have passed since the 5th. A new government has formed and life goes on. Evey has left the Shadow Gallery behind and tries to forget about the past. Even though she is forcing herself not to, she keeps wondering if V might ever return to her.AU: the movie is Evey’s altered recollection of what happened and V did not die on the 5th but disappeared shortly after.





	1. The Portrait

“You can read all this in the report Chief Inspector Finch filed over two years ago.” Evey’s voice was calm and assisting. It had been easy to recall the happenings of the year that had changed everything. Talking about it with some kind of distance was the hard part. Not to let her emotions get the best of her. It had been easier talking to Finch. He had a different understanding of V than most, since he had studied him over the course of his investigation. The experienced inspector came to understand the idea the masked vigilantly had stood for. It had been the reason why he had not stopped her from getting the bomb on its way when Big Ben announced midnight. The reason they had become friends over time.

These inspectors had dragged her out of her office in the middle of the work day. Then they brought her to the police station, only to have her tell the tale of how she became who she was all over. How their society had become what it was today. They did not tell her anything, just let her talk. Evey did not know if they were after anything in particular. She could not know if they wanted to harm her personally or if she was under suspicion. They might even be after harming the memory of V. The Idea he had been representing was now in the minds and hearts of this country’s people and had therefore changed everything.

“What happened after?” the one sitting in front of her inquired. The other one was leaning against a corner. His perfect twin watched Evey from the mirror that covered one wall.

“After?” she repeated puzzled.

“After you told Chief Inspector Finch about the attack and the attacker. After you told him about the place known as the Shadow Gallery?” He folded his hands in front of himself, leaning onto the papers that lay on the table. No doubt they contained files including Evey’s recollections.

She was involuntary reminded of the times V had interrogated her. How he had pretended to be part of the system, seemingly trying to force her giving up his own identity or location. A shiver ran down her spine. She had forgiven him for the time he had locked her up. He had taken away all her fears. Made her new. She had not forgiven him for other things.

“You know what happened.” Voice still calm, Evey tried to suppress her rising irritation. She forced herself to keep in mind, that she was no longer living within a corrupt and cruel system of violence. This was a democracy after all, she had rights and she had no reason to play down her annoyance. “They found the place. They sealed it.” She leaned back. “It was just reopened, as a museum. They decided to leave everything as it was, only bringing the art pieces V had been able to rescue to more suitable places. So they would not degrade over time in the moist surroundings of the underground. You can even visit there. See it for yourself. I heard they are planning to build a memorial on top of it.” Evey had not been to the Shadow Gallery since she had left it over two years ago. The catacombs had been opened for visitors a month ago. She did not dear return and confront the feelings she had hardly been able to burry since the day parliament had exploded. “Whatever it is you think I am holding back, there is nothing else to find here or in the Gallery.”

“Did you take any of the art?” The man who had been standing at the back of the room, black suit and blue tie, looked down at her. “Did you keep any piece for yourself?”

Evey’s eyes widened. So this was all about the art pieces from the Gallery? “Of course not. How do you think I could manage to carry any untimely masterpiece to my flat unnoticed? While art historians and security were swarming the place, no less?”

“You have been occupying the Shadow Gallery for almost a year after the end of the regime. A year before the location was revealed to authorities.” One of the agents reminded her. “Enough time to bring some pieces unnoticed from the underground to any given location.”

Evey shook her head. “I just wanted to wait. Until some new kind of government had formed. Until there was no longer the possibility, that the Gallery would be raided. Until some kind of calm had returned to the country.” Of course, Evey had had more reasons, very personal reasons, why she had stayed there all by herself. But there was no need for these two to know any of them. “Even Inspector Finch had agreed. He knew of the art and the hide out. We created a list of them, before we turned the Gallery over. So none would get lost.”

“I have that list right here.” The man in front of her raised a sheet of paper. “The ones you could not name, we managed to. Anyhow there is one missing. William Turner’s Burning of the Houses of Parliament.”

Evey flinched. She knew the painting, she had known the name and put it down on the list. “Then it must have gotten away during transport. I can assure you, I house no priceless master piece. I invite you to search my flat if it helps putting this to rest.”

The agents shared a long look, seemingly having a wordless conversation. Finally, the one in front of Evey turned towards her again: “Well, we do not have the authority to keep you in this room any longer. If you know anything about this, or you remember something, please give us a call.” He reached into his breast pocket and handed her his card. “Anyhow, if it is all the same to you, we _would_ like to have a look around your apartment.”

Evey got up. She could not suppress a little smile. It was not meant as an insult to the men in front of her. It was once again the realisation that she no longer lived in a country, were government workers could keep her without apparent reason. “If you bring the needed paper work, gentlemen, I will have a cattle boiling. Until then, good day.” She grabbed her bag and jacket, exiting the room before one of them could say anything else.

 


	2. The Tube

When she left the police station it was already getting dark. Snow was falling in big flakes and the wind crept under her light coat and scarf. The inspectors had ended her workday early, when they had snatched her up. Evey had a look to her wrist watch. It was later than it would have been at the end of her usual workday. She sighed and made her way to the next tube station, she knew was reopened.

While she stalked through the snow, only occasionally looking up to muster the people that came her way, she contemplated the past three years. It had been hard. Starting all over. Society and government had gone through a rough but necessary change. Evey did not like all of them, but a great deal was considerably better. V had given power back to the people. The ever present fear to lose this power was as well a positive change as one that caused her to worry at times. Everyone wanted a piece of the cake. Political voices, some strong, some faint, some just plain angry, were still fighting for dominance in the public eye.

Creating a new life for herself had been the hardest part. She knew she had only managed it thanks to the stoic mind set she had adapted after being trapped and tortured. It would have been so much harder, if she never had met V. He had taken her fear away. He had shown her, that there was more to lose than life. There was her integrity. Once one managed to truly understand this, the fear of anything else was mundane. She returned to this serene place, just as V had told her then, and all panic fell away from her.

Had she once again regained her calm, she was able to recollect the happenings without any kind of emotional outbreak. As so often, she had told these policemen everything that had happened exactly as it had happened, only leaving out small details. But of course, as always she had changed the ending without so much as a twitch. Face calm and composed. For as far as government officials were concerned, the man known as V was dead. Evey had put the train in motion, her last look on the sole black and red domino standing on the panel. Shortly after, she always told them, V had exploded and burned the moment Parliament had. Only Finch knew that the gravely wounded had been brought into the Gallery, since he had helped her carry him. They had done what they could to mend his wounds.

Evey shook her head to wipe the picture from her mind, but it did not work today.  

The gaping wounds that had covered V’s burned, healed and pinkish-red flesh had only closed slowly. It’s waxy texture equally a thing to deter and intrigue. More so, since he had disliked her touching him. They did not talk much either. He would hardly look into her eyes, while she changed his bandages and brought him foot. Evey had been crying more over seeing his defeated eyes and passive demeanour, then seeing him in pain. He had refused his mask and wig, but he did not want her to see his face either, asking for darkness whenever it was possible. It felt like, the man Evey had become to admire and love had gone, died in the fires of Parliament. It almost seemed ‘V’ had ceased the moment Evey had taken off his mask and ropes. Only then she truly understood what he had been trying to tell her:

The mask had become his face. Without it, who was he? It had been his wish to die on that train, to finish his plan in person. Evey had saved him instead. But the man underneath the mask had died regardless.

Two weeks after the 5th he had disappeared.

No note.

No sign.

Not even the slightest hint for a reason, a where, a how, or a why...

Evey had waited twelve months. She stayed in the Shadow Gallery, catalogued the art and explored the parts of the catacombs that had been hidden from her before. The cells she had been imprisoned and tortured in, weapon storage, chemical supplies, tools, more books, more art and most importantly V’s private chambers. She had moved into them shortly after.

Evey had cried a lot then. She had not been crying nearly as much in the year prior or the two after. It was ridiculous. V had given her this gift of fearlessness and then he himself had taken it away. When he had confessed his feelings to her, Evey had realized her own. She had grasped what an emotional blow his absents would leave. In that moment she ceased to be this strange fearless being, replaced by a lover dreading the death of her soul mate. She had done anything, given anything only to somehow safe this strange creature time and violence had created.

She had won. The reaper had taken his leave. But then her lover had as well. It had taken her twelve months to realize he would not come back.

After the year had passed, she had given Finch the okay. She had left the Gallery not ever to return. The inspector had told the new government officials about the true happening over the course of his investigation. Regardless of twenty years of being a party member, Finch had been redeemed in the public eye for revealing the true happenings of St. Marry’s and Three Waters as the doing of Norsefire. Still a chief inspector he handed in their list of art pieces and their written statements. The files depicted the year in which V had put his plan in motion, executed it piece by piece and brought down a regime that had infected its own people. She had been interrogated many times since. A great deal of people was curious about her persona, wanted to know more about her and more importantly V. She had been refusing any request for an interview and she would keep it at that. At least in the streets people did not recognize or bother her.

Evey brushed the puffy flacks from her coat, when she entered the tube station. She startled for a moment when her eye caught the pale white face of Guy Fawkes. Some student looking type had tied a mask to the backside of his backpack. It stared at anyone watching him from behind. By now Evey was used to seeing V’s face everywhere. It only startled her when caught off guard. Come the 5th people wearing the masks were dancing in the streets, especially surrounding the building sight of the new House of Parliament. V’s face on every corner. One pinch of her heart for every loss.

She turned away from the piercing empty eyes and the mocking grin. Instead she had a look around. There were only two underground lines re-opened so far, but she heard they were working on opening more. Very many people were still afraid of the tubes, since an underground station had been one of the three major outbreak sights. The government tried to lure the public with lower prices. Therefore, a great deal of people using the opened lines was a little shady looking. A hotchpotch of questionable individuals huddled on the platform, waiting for one of the very irregular lines. Despite the little part of society using the tubes, the wagons were always packed due to the small amount of trains and lines.

Evey’s attention had rested on a hunched man with a beard and dirty clothes looking down the tunnel. When the squeaking of tacks went through the station, she as well as the object of her attention looked up and got ready for entering the tube. As always a great many of rude strangers tried to stuff themselves into a space that was a little too small for them. They all brought their wet feet and clothes. She tried to enter and make as much room as possible. As was so often the case she was not spared being shoved against somebody, fighting for something to hold onto during the ride.

“Excuse me.” Evey tried to get some room between herself and the stranger by leaning away. It did not really work out anyway, since moving away only bumped her into a raggedy looking woman, who had a morbid smell to her. Plus the further she leaned away, the harder it became grabbing the pole she was holding onto. So, Evey tried to balance herself somehow between the two figures, trying not to lean against coat and chest of the man standing behind her.

“Not a problem at all.” The man replied politely.

Evey nodded acknowledging.

If this would have been a different day, if Evey had not been consumed by haunting memories, of interrogations, blood and loss and so much more of the past, she might have recognized that voice. That dark and precise voice, purpose and elegance, melody and gravel, that still came to her in dreams. But it had been this day and Evey just sighed battered, hoping her station would come sooner than it should.

At the next stop more people crowded the wagon. The raggedy lady pressed hard against her and she was thrown backwards. She stumbled but was stopped by a gloved hand holding her forearm. When she got her stance back, she was faced with the man standing over her, leaning against the door frame.

He was prepared for today’s cold weather by wearing a dark coat and black leather gloves. His fedora and maroon coloured scarf covered most of his face. On first glance, he did not seem to fit into the tube at all. A crowd of weirdoes and strange looking people were pressed together in this metal box. Despite his massive frame, his elegant demeanour was obvious right away. However, when Evey ventured looking into his steel blue eyes the red and scared flesh of his face gave him something of a grim finish.

It took Evey another second of musing, that he was indeed fitting right into this place, before the many little details in front of her formed one clear picture. His voice from before rang in her ears. Her eyes grew wide. Her lips formed the letter but her voice did not follow through.

The man standing in front of her had helped setting her back to her feet, now his hand lingered along her shoulder blade. Not yet able to decide between letting go of her and brushing his gloved fingertips over her back. He did not look into her eyes. Instead he was focused on the fabric of her winter coat, her blond curls falling over collar and scarf. Eyes filled with wonder and sadness avoiding her face, while awe shone through when he whispered gently: “Evey.”

She took the decision from him, whether to touch her or not, when her hand shot out and pressed the button opening the slide doors he was leaning against. He fell back and stumbled backwards onto the platform of the current station. Evey followed him with a quick step and watched how he regained his balance with ease. The anger in her eyes was a living thing that seemed to burn his maimed skin worse than fire ever had. With his stance back, he stepped away to create space between them.

They stayed like this, in silence, while the tube behind them took off to a more crowded area of the city. She stared at him in anger, in disbelieve, in relief, in fear. More than once she fought for words, searching for the right thing to say. She had been imagining this moment many times within these past three years, had been crafting her every word. But now that it finally happened, it was impossible for her to even remotely voice what run though her overflowing mind.

“I guess—” he started, understanding that Evey was paralyzed by emotion.

But his words helped her recover momentarily and she almost shouted: “No. You don’t get to talk.” She raised an angry finger. “You don’t get to start. You had time and time enough to start. This is unacceptable. Like this. Here.” She gestured around herself. “Not like this.” Her voice broke. “Three years V. Three. Years.”

As if burned he jerked away.

“Where were you?” She managed to utter somewhat calmer. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her eyes starting to itch. “Why did you just leave like that? Leave me? Didn’t you care? Did you ever care what you did to me then?”

“I—” he tried and continued only when Evey stayed silent. “I have always cared for you, Evey. It was, in part, why I left in the first place.”

“To what end?” Her voice trembled. A gush of find blew an old piece of piper in between them. The ends of her curls danced for a moment. “To leave me behind? You changed my perspective on things. You changed me. Only to leave me when there was finally a chance for change. You left and I—” _broke_. She swallowed the word. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you ever cared for me. I was just a means to an end. You used me for you plans and disappeared after.” It was one way Evey was able to look at their past. One way to explain to herself what had happened between them. “But I was already ready to help you in the end. You did not have to manipulate me like that. I would have started the tube. There was no need to pretend to love me.”

Her words forced a panicked expression into his eyes. He looked up but could not hold her gaze for long. His blue eyes fluttered over her slim figure, only to focus on the moving piece of paper in front of them. “I would _never_ have done such a thing.” Evey recognised he was withholding anger, a pleading tone coloured his words instead. “Every word I said to you was the truth. I had promised you never to lie again, and I never did and I never will. I love you, Evey. I have then and I do now. Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service. I love you more than words can wield the matter. Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.”

Evey had to cover her mouth not to utter a sob. Hearing him talk, hearing _his_ words.

When she stayed silent, not even looking up, he continued: “I have never stopped looking after you. I did from a distance, but I never stopped worrying.”

“What?” This confession helped her to return to her anger instead of contemplating his feelings and her own. “You have been watching me?” She could not believe it. How did she not notice? But of course, now that she saw him, the dark figure disappearing behind a corner just so, or blending into the crowd, hit Evey like a cold bucket of water. “You have been following me?” She exclaimed with more anger now, her throbbing heart forgotten.

He adjusted his hat over his eyes. “I have been looking after you ever since my wounds have healed adequately. I had to be certain you were being well. When I had the opportunity to finish up my work early today, I took a seat on the opposite of your building. The park there is rather lovely. I read a book and hoped to see you exit.”

“It is freezing out,” Evey exclaimed disbelieving. “The snow and everything! What are you doing?”

The man in front of her merely coughed but did not answer, instead he kept explaining: “When I realized you were leaving in custody of two inspectors, I was worried and followed you there.” He still avoided her gaze. “I had not been anticipating to actually converse with you today, Evey. This was a coincidence.” She understood he was talking about her being shoved against him.

“So—” Evey stopped herself. She took a deep breath and hoped the hurt and pain would leave her voice. She only managed to play it down. “So if it was not for today, for the inspectors questioning me and for the tube being too crowded, you would not have talked to me?” She had to fight back tears. From years of experience she managed, but her nose would start to run soon enough. “You would have just kept your distance?”

“Evey—” The stranger in front of her started, but he was interrupted.

“‘Xcuse me, Miss?” asked a young lad with a strong cockney accent. “Is he bowering you, or somefing? D’you need ‘elp?”

Evey sniffed. She realized she had been looking down to the dirty ground. When the young man interrupted she focused on him. He and his two companions had been walking their way. They looked a little shady but apparently they meant well. She stayed silent for a moment while glancing from them back to the grim looking V. He was no threat to her. Evey had very soon after their first acquaintance realized that she felt not even in the slightest threatened by the man behind the Guy Fawkes mask. Despite the fact that he was prone to violence and very capable in executing it, he had always treated her with the utmost respect and kindness. Not counting the weeks he had been imprisoning and torturing her. Beyond that though, she knew he would never hurt her. And even if so, Evey realized, he could never hurt her more than he had with his absents and her realization of his rejection.

V stood perfectly still, waiting for Evey’s verdict.

“No. Thank you.” She mustered a smile. “I will be fine. But thank you anyways.” Evey tried to convey how grateful she was, since in an other situation, these men might have rescued a woman from danger.

The three man tried to read the situation, threw some glances at Evey, some at V. Finally the one who had been talking nodded. “A’right. Be careful, dove.” They turned and made their way up the subway stairs. V’s body relaxed.

Only few people remained on the platform, none in reach of earshot. A grave silence befell them, only interrupted by some of Evey’s sniffs.

Eventually she asked: “Why?”

She said it so quietly that he was not even sure she had uttered it at all. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why did you just leave?” Now it was her avoiding his gaze. She felt him starring at her face. “Why did you run away with not even a word of goodbye. I was worried, V. I was scared you might have died. Scared they would get to you or you would end up cold and alone, beaten down by thugs or thieves. I waited for you to return. I waited a year in the Gallery. And every day I hoped you would return, or at least there would be a message. And every day I was heartbroken again and again.” She stopped. She had not meant to say these last words. Evey closed her eyes and shook her head, no longer able to hold back tears. “Just, why?”

She heard him move from foot to foot, stepping closer only to step away again. Turned, looking down the tube tunnel he answered: “I was afraid, Evey.”

She waited for him to continue but he only stared blank ahead. “Of what?” With the end of her scarf she wiped her tears away. The cold air made her wet face hurt.

He reached into his jacket and handed her a magenta coloured handkerchief without so much as looking her way. She stepped closer and took it hesitantly. When she held it, he withdrew his hand immediately, as if afraid to touch her. “I am no longer the man you once knew. That man has ceased to exist on the 5th. I became something new. Someone new. A person that has never existed before. I do not recall anything of my live before Larkhill. Suddenly, I was no longer an idea, there was no purpose. Suddenly I became a real person. A man afraid his love would reject him. I was no longer who you had known. V was gone. He _is_ gone.” He raised his arms as if to look at himself. “And I am...well.” For the first time since they knew each other she heard him struggle for words. At a loss he finally looked into her searching eyes, gesturing towards his face, his skin. “I am abominable.”

Evey wiped her face and nose with the red fabric. She tried to remember these two weeks after the 5th, tried to match what he said with how he had reacted towards her then. It was true, he had hated her seeing him weak and sick but she had known even then it was more than that. It was seeing him naked and bare, touching his skin. He had hardly talked to her then, neither looked into her eyes. She had concluded then, he was angry at her, for not letting him die as intended. Evey had come to believe, he left as soon as he was able to, because she had disregarded his wish and kept him from fulfilling his self-proclaimed destiny. V had once told her that he believed to be the universe’s counter reaction to the crimes and cruelty of Norsefire. Since he was the deciding factor in destroying its leadership, V believed he had to die with it. Apparently, if she could trust the words of the person standing in front of her, he actually had.

This stranger, not V, told her, he had been reserved then, because he was afraid she would reject who he had become?

With some regained countenance she tried to bite back her hurt and focus on his insecurities instead. “Do you think me that shallow?” She coughed and could not stop herself from blushing a little, hoping he would think the cold responsible, when she uttered: “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.”

His head shot up and he finally turned back towards her.

“I am not the woman I was when we first met.” she continued. So much had changed, so much had happened. It was V who had thought Evey more about herself than she could have ever figured out on her own. He had brought this change in her and she was thankful for it. Without fear and focussed on the things that mattered to her. “Do you like me less for it?”

“Of course not.” He took a step in her direction, a hand raised. But she could see he did not intend to, since he withdraw immediately. “If anything I loved you more for it.”

“Then why would I refuse you now.” Her sight became blurry. She buried her face in his handkerchief, starting to weep when she recognized his familiar smell. It undid her and she could no longer hold back her overwhelming emotions.

When strong arms embraced her, she did not flinch or hesitate. She pressed her cheek to the dark fabric, his handkerchief a ball in her clenched fist, her sobs damped by his figure.

“Evey, my Evey. I am so sorry.” He breathed it into her curls. He kept shushing apologies and sweet words while Evey was still contemplating if this was real or not.

“What,” she niffed, her voice strained by emotion, “What am I supposed to call you now?” She entangled herself a little from his grip, so she could look into his face.

He let it happen, but kept playing with her hair. “What’s in a name?” he quoted and managed to bring a little smile on Evey face. A gloved hand wiped away another tear, before it rested on her cheek. His lips found her temple when he answered: “Victor, for a start. But you, love, might call me whatever you see fit.”

 


	3. The Stranger

They ventured through dark tunnels, often times riddled with debris. Still, Evey’s guide seemed to know every step and stone along the way by heart. They did not talk much. Evey was too exhausted to talk. Her hand rested on his bicep, so she would not stumble in the dim light.

After a while they reached a massive metal door. Victor had to insert a key before turning a massive door wheel and entering a key code. Evey would have not even noticed the corroded metal if she had passed it, but it only seemed to be that way on the outside. When the heavy wing opened and her guide made way to let Evey enter, she saw that frame and lock were perfectly intact. He flicked a switch and bright, artificial lights went on.

“How did you find this place?” She was greeted by light stone arches similar to the ones the Shadow Gallery was built of. But besides two smaller metal doors it seemed to be a more moderate place, since the room they had just entered seemed to serve as living room, dining room and kitchen all at once. As not expected differently from her former roommate the interior was selected with care and taste.

“I was looking for spare parts in order to fix the tracks that used to lead to Parliament.” After a quick security check, he closed the heavy door behind them. “That was almost ten years ago. I always intended this to be a back-up hide out, in case the Gallery would ever be discovered.”

Evey’s glance roamed the closed door for a second. She was not afraid to be here, she wanted to be. Still, the sound of the lock had a weird finality to it. Victor did not notice worry flashing over her face, he was too awestruck seeing her standing in his living room.

“Won’t they find this place while rebuilding the underground?” She strode further into the room and looked around, gesturing to emphasise her point.

Victor stood next to the door and watched her. He took of his coat, hesitating when removing his scarf and hat. “I am working for the Transport for London. I am one of the workers rebuilding the tracks. It is a job that allows me to be unseen when I wish to be. It also gives me the right to be down here, in case anyone should cross my way. If the building site ever draws nearer I will have enough time to take precaution or leave if necessary.”

Evey nodded. When she noticed him hanging his winter gear on a clothes rack next to the door, she started taking off her own scarf and coat. Victor hanged them as well. It gave her a moment to survey him completely. He had only changed his heavy gloves that reminded her of his gauntlets against a lighter pair, but choose not to discard them completely. The dark, woollen turtle neck pullover covert his upper body completely to his jaw but was highlighting his broad build. She had seen his naked face and body many times over the course of those two weeks and his features had grown familiar. Their sight did not scare her anymore. The red uneven skin, riddled with white scars, covered his whole face and scull as well as his body. His ears were disfigured and there was no hair growing in his face or on his head. Once again he avoided her eyes, especially when he noticed she was mustering him.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” He asked instead and stepped past her towards the kitchen area that was partly disappearing behind a column wall.

“I would love one.” She hesitated to follow him, but in the end her curiosity got the best of her and she started looking around.

They had hardly spoken since he asked to move their conversation to somewhere more private, eying the few other people that were watching them. She had nodded and followed him without questioning the route through shady tunnels and old corridors. She had not expected anything else from him. But following his lead had been easy, now she had to determine where their relationship was and where it could lead to.

When she reached the dining table, one he had probably chosen for its design not the space it provided, since Evey doubted he was entertaining many guests, she noticed another part of the room. A pompous golden frame highlighted a familiar oil painting. What on first glance only looked like a mix of different shades of blue, orange, grey, brown and beige, was a carefully arranged composition. It was depicting a fire shining bright over the surface of a body of water. The night was fought back by the burning light, while crowds of people watched in shock, taking shelter on the shore or several boats. In the foreground the beige leftovers of a burning bridge provided a light contrast to the chaos taking place in the back.

“Victor.” She exclaimed and hoped he did not notice how she had lingered on the V. “How did you get—” Evey gestured to the familiar piece of art. “They are looking for that painting. That was why they questioned me today. How did it even get here?”

He had put the cattle on and joined her, still standing next to the dining table.

“So they have?” He stroked his chin thinking, while making a pause. His next words were obviously making him uncomfortable and he chose them with care. “I came by the Gallery once. More than two years ago. You were still occupying it then and had not left it for quite some time. I had not seen you in a month. So I decided to check on you.”

Evey turned around exhaling in shock: “You were there?”

“I was.” He flinched but stopped himself from stepping away. “You were sleeping and I did not dare wake you. When I passed the painting, I decided to take it with me.”

“I was sleeping.” Evey repeated and tried to pinpoint the day he must have come to the Gallery. Shortly before giving up on the thought that V might return to her, she had fallen into another phase of depression. “And so you just left.”

She remembered the time. She hardly left the Gallery and if, only to buy food. It had been in between jobs. After, she had managed to get her life together once more, she had told Finch to go along with his plan and tell the truth. After that she got a new job, a new flat, a new life. Once again Evey Hammond had reinvented herself.

The silence lay heavy between them.

“I wanted to—” Again he was searching for the right words. Stepping closer, he rested one of his balms on her lover back, knowing that he was about to lose her to anger and pain. “I wanted to hold you. But I was afraid it would wake you from your heavy slumber. I knew you had been drinking. I feared I was the reason for it. I just—” His face turned away and he shook his scarred head. “I just could not bring myself to touch you. I was sure you would send me away, shout at me, hate me. I knew I had to do good on you, that my intentioned to protect you had failed. I thought about it for weeks after. Regretting I did not use the chance. But then…” He regarded her amazed and his other hand intertwined with her own. “You did it all by yourself.” Victor slipped a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You just got up and went on.”

“I didn’t.” She stopped his hand in its tracks and turned away, but she did not let go of the other. “I just went on. Trying to forget. Trying to move on. Helping to shape a new society. What else was I supposed to do?”

Victor could not have answered her rhetorical question, even if he wanted to. He held on to her hand, closing the gap between them. Evey did not mind, she leaned against him but was too overwhelmed by his closeness and these revelations to act on her anger or confusion. She wanted to shout at him, but how could she blame him for behaviour that was solemnly caused by his insecurities and uncertainty.

The cattle boiled and they flinched apart in surprise. Victor moved to the kitchen and started preparing tea. Evey leaned against the dining table, turned in his direction. While she watched him, the familiarity of his movements calming her, she uttered with the lightest tone she could muster: “V once said that one cannot steal something that has no owner. That in claiming the art back he rescued it. But now there is a public that wants them back. They belong into a museum. Why would you keep it now?”

Victor smiled to himself, while preparing a trey for tea and cups. “I am not V. I saw it and I wanted it. I figured, since I was not able to watch my work unfold on the 5th this might be somewhat of a consolatory alternative.”

He moved to the living room, carrying the tray. Evey followed inquiring: “So it _is_ your work, but you are not him?”

Victor put pot and cups down on the low table, taking a seat on the red velvet couch. “It is more complicated than just V being V and then suddenly becoming Victor. I remember everything he did, how he did it, what he was thinking in the moment. But I have become human. The purpose of V is gone. I know all that he knew, I can do all that he could and if there would ever arise a need for a persona like him, I might become him again. But right now, I am just me.” He watched how Evey took a seat next to him, searching her face for rejection or confusion, but she was merely thinking. “If that makes any sense to you.”

She nodded, watching steam rise from the pot’s snout. “It does. V was always…” Evey disposed of her shoes and tucked up her legs to her body. “He was more than human. Somehow untouchable. I had this dream for a while, searching him in the Gallery, but every time I found him, I touched him, he just evaporated into smoke.” Victor listened intently. “I think you are different in that regard. You are here. You are in the moment. Not thinking and thinking about an elaborate plan.”

Evey reached for his hands. They had been folded in his lab. He let her strip the black fabric off them, leaving the red and calloused flesh exposed. She lay the gloves down on the coffee table and reached for them once more. He flinched when she took both in her own, touching and feeling their long healed scars. It was something V would have never accepted. Despite his unease Victor let her play with his digits, watching her delicate hands compared to his own monstrous paws.

Evey laughed a little. “It was also intriguing, of course, after all I did fall in love with him.” The months after she had left, after she had discovered that it had been he who captured and tortured her, she had thought of V many times. Contemplating his wish for her return and her own decision to leave. She could not bring herself to return before the 4th of November, but neither had she possessed the strengths to forget about him. They had shared many moments of intimacy, of cooking and eating together, of watching movies and discussing literature, but they had always done it from a distance. His plans and his past had always stood between them, even before Evey had started to think of him in a romantic way. The knowledge of rejection had held her back. It had finally come on the 5th, when he chose his destiny over her. _And quite right so_ , she figured, weighing the consequences of his actions on that day against an alternate future together. It hurt but it was the truth.

While Evey was thinking, a grave pause befell Victor. He asked hesitant: “Do you think you could love me, as you loved him?”

Evey looked up, leaving her own thoughts in favour of reading his uncertain mimic. Without a single word, she held on to his hands and made him open his arms. Lifting one leg over his, she sat down, straddling his hips. “I think—” she started, watching him hold his breath in disbelieve. “I could not just love you.” Evey rested her hands on his shoulders. “I could be yours, if you’ll have me.”

When he stayed petrified for another moment, she could not suppress a smile. Evey lead his hands to her hips and pressed a chaste kiss on his jaw. I caused him to move again, stroking her thighs hesitantly.

His breath became uneven.  He tilted his head just so and Evey took the invitation, kissing him deep, savouring his taste, forcing him to open up to her. She moved on him, pressing their bodies together, trailing kisses down his jaw and neck.

“Evey, I—” Victor began, flinching away from her heat. He wanted to tell her of his love and adoration, of his hopes and losses, of his fears and hesitation. But when he looked into her eyes, clouded with lust he choose to kiss her instead.

She felt his growing erection through both their pants. It caused her only to grind harder down on him, forcing a stifled moan from his scarred lips. He paused from kissing her only to give her an inquiring look. Evey answered by letting her hands venture down his sides and getting hold of the dark wool of his pullover. She wanted to feel him against her. Needed her hardening nipples brushing his damaged skin. Had to see his eyes filled with wonder and lust.

He hesitated as she knew he would, pressing his hands to hers. But when Evey pressed another sloppy kiss against his trembling lips, he helped her discard the dark fabric. He looked aside while she let her hands and hungry eyes explore his waxy and uneven skin. To her, it was fascinating. The thought that he trusted her enough to let her touch him this way aroused her further. Without even the thought of an intend crossing her mind, she placed a kiss just over his heart, scraping the skin there with her teeth. Another moan escaped him, while her hand kept exploring. Stroking over his defined abdomen and finally resting on the fly of his pants.

“I want you,” she whispered into the deformed ear that was tilted towards her. The words caused him to hiss, returning to hold her gaze.

Finally bolder, he forced her hands away and instead had her slip out of her own top and bra. Throwing them away before eager hands returned to her body. Still without uttering one husky word Evey craved from his melodious voice, he led his calloused hands to her aching breasts. She relished in the touch and let out a wanton moan that suspiciously sounded like “V”. But he was too far gone to notice. His mouth sucked in one of her nipples, while Evey pinched the other. She leaned into him at last noticing how hot and needing she had already grown. Her core throbbing with want for him.

Evey used his distraction. Her hands once again returned to the fly of his pants. This time he did not stop her, only using the opportunity to caress her freed, other nipple with his mouth. When Evey, however, buried her hand in his underpants, stroking his twitching length to its full hardness, he leaned away involuntarily. His eyes fell shut and he had to supress a desperate yelp.

Every abhorrent part of him was burned, damaged or scarred. Yet, this creature of wonder was not even hesitating in the slightest. She drank in all of him, only seeming to want more. Her administrations, even though disarming, encouraged him. While she had been settling on kissing and nibbling a trail sown his neck, her tender hand stroking him lazily, Victor grabbed Eveys backside hard enough to cause pain. She jumped in surprise but let out a laugh.

“Your pants, love.” He demanded without command in his voice. He was too busy holding on to his rapidly slipping countenance.

Evey complied and got up. He winced when her caressing touch left him so sudden, but watched in wonder how she slowly lost pants and panties. She went on helping him out of his shoes and own trousers, freeing his aching erection.

When Evey settled down on his lab once more, he could feel hot wetness pooling from her center. Evey bit her lip and leaned against him, rubbing her nipples against his flesh, and her moist core against his throbbing length.

“Evey…” he breathed and leaned in to reclaim her lips. She repaid his love with hungry anticipation.

Grabbing his hand, she led it to her thighs, encouraging him to feel her. Victor did not hesitate, sliding middle and ring finger along her folds, spreading and feeling her wetness.

Evey let out a delighted breath. He had to bring up all the will he had in him, not to get hold of her hips and bury himself in her hot slickness. She used a hand to show him where to touch her. While he mimicked her movements she appraised him with fierce kisses, then she began stroking his waiting cock again. When his touch displeased her, she would bite his lower lip. It elicited a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, before she would squeeze his length uncomfortably forcing him to wince.

Like that they found a steady rhythm that altered her moans to a low and desperate plea. Her body trembled above him. His name fell from her lips and her hips jerked harder against his eager fingertips. Just when she was about to tell him, Victor, long intoxicated by the reactions his hand coaxed out of her, slid two fingers into her. Evey was already on the threshold of her orgasm. She slammed her hips down on his hand, while her walls contracted. His name was a prayer on her lips, giving herself over to pleasure. It finally undid him.

He let go of her center. Using both his hands to grab her hips, he lead her to him. Still revelling in her aftershocks, Evey let it happen without objection, pressing her face to his and breathing heavily into his ear.  He slipped into her with ease, burring himself to the heel of his cock. They both let out a sensual hiss when their hips slammed into each other.

Still for a moment, they ravished the feeling of another. Evey kissed him tenderly before raising her hips in equal laze and slamming into him once more.

It was just too much to bear. He kept holding on to her hips, got up and rested her back on the scarlet couch beneath them. Immediately, her legs curled up against his back and urged his hips deeper into hers. His hand dug involuntarily into her halo of curls, flowing over the smooth fabric. Thrusts already erratic, he knew he would not last for long. Even so, it did not matter. Nothing mattered in that moment, but her blinding, welcoming heat again and again. Evey met him with every thrust, aching for more, deeper, harder, shouting his name, scratching his back, lost in her own pleasure.

Finally, he could no longer concentrate on her. Victor buried his face in her neck, a silent scream on his lips, while his orgasm erased the world around him. He collapsed onto her, she did not mind. Evey held him in her arms, enjoying his weight on hers, stroking his brawny back.

His head still tugged underneath her jaw, his breaths steadied slowly, before he stirred. Without looking at her he murmured against her flesh: “Are you alright?” His exhaustion rang clear in his voice.

For the slightest of moments Evey contemplated his question, but in the end she snorted, before bursting into laughter. Shaking and quivering underneath him. His softening cock still embedded inside her, forced another moan from her lips. Her laughter fading away as quickly as it had found her.

Worried he looked up, moving away and giving her free.

She held onto him reflexively, momentarily missing his warmth. “Yes, I am fine.” Evey finally managed and squeezed his hip to empathise her words. Making room she led him to lie down next to her. “I am more than fine.”

Evey arranged him so, that she could rest her head on top of his chest, pressing her body to his sites and stroking unknown paths over his torso. He complied but kept searching her face for any sign of rejection, any token of disgust. All he found was contempt. It irritated him even more than her aversion would have.

“Don’t I repel you?” She could feel his chest vibrating, his breath turning steady over time.

Her hand found one of his and she slipped her digits in-between his. “To me you are the most beautiful person I have ever met.”

Victor sighed simultaneously contempt and defeated. “You are a liar and a temptress, Evey.”

She could not suppress a little giggle. It would always be like this, she figured. “I might be a temptress but never a lair. Not to you.”

He sighed again, almost humming this time “So you are.”

Reaching underneath the couch he grabbed a soft wool blanked and draped it on top of them both. In the heat of the moment it had been of no matter, but his home was a cold and open place. Victor could feel goose bumps creep over Evey’s body, pressing into him for his warmth.

They stayed silent for a while, just enjoying each other’s breathing and nearness. Neither could really believe they were holding the other. Both remembering the years of yearning, waiting, wanting. His hand in her hair, her hand on his skin.

“I wasted so much time.” He finally uttered and rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “So many month, years, I could have been holding you like this.”

Evey stayed silent for a second, recalling the words that had been echoing through her head, ever since they had entered his layer: “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” he said, and felt his eyelids grow tired.

“Lysander,” she agreed. Snuggling closer she pulled the blanked to her face.

Soon she felt his chest rising and falling, slow and regular. She did not need to look up to know that he had fallen asleep. Evey closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to his heart. She followed him into Morpheus’ embrace, delighted in the thought that he would still be here once she woke up. Everything else, they would figure out over time.

**Author's Note:**

> For the longest time I have been thinking about writing some #reylo. But then I returned to this piece of gold and this beautiful ship. There are so many people writing #reylo but so few writing #eVey. So I wanted to give something to my fellow V fans. This fic had it coming. V for Vendetta is my favourite movie for rocking such a bitter sweet ship (but of course there are tonnes of other reasons). In my opinion there is nothing I would change about the movie, not even putting a happy end to it. This, however, is a nice what-if.  
> This [list](http://www.runboard.com/btheladiesoftheshadowgallery.f17.t677) helped me determine the painting I would be settling on.  
> The painting: [William Turner - Burning of the Houses of Parliament](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Burning_of_the_Houses_of_Lords_and_Commons)  
> This is the [list](https://www.nosweatshakespeare.com/quotes/shakespeare-love-quotes/) of Shakespeare quotes I ventured through to find the right ones.  
> This fic turned into smut involuntarily. It is also not my field of expertise. I hope you enjoyed it anyways. Have a lovely night, morning or day, wherever you are.


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